


Deja Vu

by pat_t



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-10
Packaged: 2017-11-05 03:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/401775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pat_t/pseuds/pat_t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeing things. Again</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deja Vu

**Author's Note:**

> Adult conent for male/male slash, language, violence, DM/M, written for the "Dojo" picture Challenge

> _Because I could not stop for Death,  
>  He kindly stopped for me;  
>  The carriage held but just ourselves  
>  And Immortality._

Marie Noel stepped onto the tarmac at Seacouver International airport. Patting down her short skirt and looking around, she smiled to herself, a secret knowing smile, as she entered the airport terminal and walked quickly towards the baggage carousal. She had made her reservations at the airport Hilton, not wanting to be too far away from a swift escape back to Paris if her plans fell through. Not that she was really worried. After all, she had planned everything down to the tiniest detail. Now all she needed was one man and everything would fall into place. Duncan MacLeod.

She entered her hotel room and looked around. Very nice, she thought to herself. "Merci." She tipped the bellboy, smiling with satisfaction from the appreciative looks he gave her before turning to leave her room.

If her flight had been tiresome or tedious, she was either unaware or immune. Instead, she felt energized, her body thrumming with adrenaline, as she worked through her plans in her head once again. Opening and laying out her suitcase across the king sized bed, she took out each item, taking special care with the articles of clothing as she lifted them gently out and spread them across the bed. She smoothed out the dresses and hung them up, marveling at the rich colors and textures. Tessa had exquisite taste. She frowned. But, then Tessa had everything, hadn't she?

But not anymore. Tessa was dead. And she was alive - Marie, the little sister who could never measure up. No, she wasn't beautiful or smart. She wasn't an artist. She had always been the fat one, the plain one, the one without talent. The one who had to work for their parents' love and attention. But no matter how much she had tried, it was never enough. Never. So she had rebelled: truancy, theft, arson...yes, she had turned out to be quite talented after all.

Until she had been caught, that is. She frowned, and attempted to will the painful memories away. The problem was that she could still taste the bile in the back of her throat when she recalled her parent's visit to her in jail, the sour taste reminding her of their disappointment, their anger and their rejection. She had spent five years in jail. Five long, painful years without love or human comfort. It had almost destroyed her. Almost.

It wasn't as if she hadn't tried to make things right between them. She had planned on a reconciliation with her parents as soon as she was released from jail. Tessa had written her while she had been incarcerated, and she had high hopes of joining Tessa in Seacouver once she was released, with the end goal of gaining her parent's approval. But it wasn't meant to be. Tessa had been killed right before Marie's release, the victim of a robbery while living in Seacouver. And their parents had been inconsolable. The last thing they wanted was the daughter that had shown them so much heartbreak when their beloved daughter had been taken from them so cruelly.

During the next year, her anger had built to almost monstrous proportions. She lost fifty pounds, amazed at the difference it made in her looks. Gradually she emerged, looking younger, prettier--like her mother. Just like Tessa. It was all there: the blue eyes, the tiny straight nose, the perfect mouth. While not twins, they were very close in appearance, the main difference being their coloring, as Marie had inherited her father's darker hair. But, a trip to a stylist one month ago, armed with a picture of Tessa, had fixed that problem. In fact, she had been stunned when she saw herself in the mirror and realized she was looking at an almost identical reflection of the woman in the picture.

The obsession started growing as she read and reread all of Tessa's letters. She had memorized every detail of her sister's life, remembering the disdain and jealousy she had felt at her sister's happiness while she withered away behind bars. Tessa had so much compared to her: beautiful, a great home, great job, and a rich, handsome lover. Always Tessa. Well no more. Tessa was dead and it was her time now.

Her chance came two months ago when their mother suddenly passed away. She had found the opportune time to sneak into her parent's home before the funeral. Going to Tessa's old room and searching, she had not been surprised when she found a box of Tessa's things, having heard from family that Tessa's lover had allowed them to collect her personal items after her death. Very carefully, she had gone through her sister's clothes and personal effects, feeling her anger grow as she handled the treasured items. Packing everything away in Tessa's suitcase, she had left the house, her plan already forming in her mind.

Enough, she chided herself. She was allowing past hurts to ruin her mood. She was here to change the future, not ruminate on the past. Determinedly, she pushed the memories aside and resolved to focus on the here and now. 

With that in mind, she took off her dress and laid down on the bed, reaching for the photograph she had placed on the night stand. Yes, she could now have it all: Tessa's looks, Tessa's life and Tessa's future. Only one thing held her back--Duncan MacLeod. She studied the face of the man in the photograph--the dark hair, dark eyes, the loving smile toward her sister as she had taken the photograph--and felt her stomach clinch as a tingle spread between her legs. She was getting wet, and her sex began to throb in response.

Tugging down her underwear and opening her legs, she continued to stare at the photo, her fingers reaching for her aching sex as she stared into the eyes of her sister's lover. She laid back against the pillow with a soft sigh, her eyes drifting shut, as she began to stroke her clit while picturing the handsome man in her mind. She pictured his hand between her legs, and stroked faster, breathing in deeply as if she could smell his cologne, and licked her lips in anticipation of his mouth taking hers. She undulated against her hand and saw him over her, his cock hard and ready, and imagined him putting it at her entrance, pressing into her wet heat. Suddenly she was coming, bucking up from the bed as she cried out, only to fall back with a shuddering breath a few seconds later. Breathing hard, she picked up the picture from the bed and sighed. Soon, Duncan, soon.

~~~~~~

Marie shifted uncomfortably against her rented Impala's leather seat and sighed. A quick glance at her watch told her she had been sitting outside the dojo for over three hours. For the umpteenth time, she unfolded the piece of paper where she had written Duncan MacLeod's address and scowled. She had paid the detective agency good money for this information, and if it was wrong....

Suddenly, bright lights were shining across her windshield, and she ducked down behind the steering wheel until they passed. Gliding up slowly in the seat, she grabbed her binoculars and peered out, smiling when she recognized the tall, good looking man sliding out of the black Thunderbird. Finally! She watched as the passenger side door opened, and furrowed her brow. It was almost two am. Who would be getting out of MacLeod's car at two in the morning?

She peered harder, trying to make out the images in the pale glow of the street lights, a relieved smile gracing her lips when the figure of a man emerged from the car. Okay, a friend. She could deal with that, she thought to herself. Except, what were they doing? What the hell? She watched in confusion as the other man, who was easily as tall as MacLeod, pressed himself full length against MacLeod's body until they were both leaning against the side of the car.

She adjusted her binoculars, and almost audibly cried out when the first man attacked MacLeod's mouth with his own in a blinding kiss. Even from her distance she could tell the kiss was heated and passionate, clearly involving both lips and tongue. She almost strangled on a gasp when their hips started undulating against one another. Then Duncan was pushing the other man back with a hard shove, reversing their positions until he was pressing the other man against the car.

She watched, mesmerized, when Duncan's hand went to the other man's crotch and started to caress what was an obvious erection through his jeans. She could see the other man throw his head back and appear to moan before his mouth was taken again.

'Sweet Jesus,' she whispered to herself, finally dropping the binoculars onto the seat beside her as the two men broke apart and went into the dojo. "What the hell?" she asked the night air, feeling herself grow dizzy as she leaned back against the cushioned leather seat for support. This was the man her sister had fallen in love with? The man who had made her so happy? That she was engaged to? But, he was GAY.

She felt a hysterical bubble of laughter tickle up her throat and gulped, trying to keep it down. With shaky hands she started her car, and pulled out of the alley to go back to the hotel. No, this would never do. She had plans for Duncan MacLeod. He was the final piece in her bid to have her dead sister's life. This just wouldn't do.

Driving slowly through town, she thought over her options. She had planned on wooing Duncan by showing up, looking just like Tessa, and had counted on him not being able to turn away the woman he had loved. She knew she wasn't Tessa, but that should hardly matter. Surely he would see that she could be everything he wanted. She could be Tessa if he would let her. Except this man...and she frowned again. Who was he? And, when did Duncan MacLeod become gay?

Well, no bother, she thought to herself as she pulled into the hotel parking lot. She just had to be more subtle. Surely Tessa wouldn't approve of such a relationship. She just had to let Duncan know that in no uncertain terms, and then he would dump the man, leaving it wide open for her arrival to take his place. Feeling strangely relieved, she got out of her car and went upstairs to plan her next move.

~~~~~~

Methos rolled over in bed, smiling when his nose bumped into the lightly furred chest of his lover. Duncan's arms tightened around him and he smiled. "Good morning," Methos murmured.

"Morning." A kiss to his forehead accompanied the salutation and he pressed closer to the other man's muscular frame. "Didn't you get enough last night?" an amused voice asked him.

"Emm, nope." He laughed before snaking down under the covers to devour the erection that had been pressing into his hip.

"Methos!"

Methos smiled around the thick shaft and started to suck, bringing a hand up to caress the full balls underneath, only to curse graphically to himself a moment later when the shrill ring of the phone tore into the quietness of the loft. Trying to ignore the thrice-damned noise, he continued to fondle and suck, only to pull away in exasperation a moment later when his head was tugged up from his ministrations.

"Sorry, Methos," Duncan told him in a breathless apology. "I have to get that. I can't concentrate and it might be important.

"Fine," he relented, flopping back down on his pillow with a long suffering sigh. He watched as his lover got out of bed and walked naked to the phone, his erection still bobbing out in front of him to lead the way.

"MacLeod," Duncan spoke into the phone.

Methos waited, first pissed, then concerned, as Mac hung up and came back to bed. "What?" he asked when Duncan sat down beside him, his face pale and erection waning.

"I...Methos..."

"What Mac? Who the bloody hell was that?"

"She said it was Tessa," he stated plainly. "I know it can't be, but..."

"But what?" Methos asked, mildly shocked by the look on the other man's face. "Mac, Tessa is dead. This has to be some sort of sick prank."

"I know that, Methos," Duncan told him angrily before jumping up and grabbing his boxers.

"Mac--"

Duncan grew still, and sighed deeply, before turning back to the bed to face him. "I know, Methos. I'm sorry. It's just that...."

"What?" Methos asked more gently now.

"It _sounded_ like her. Just like her."

"Remember Horton, Mac. He's tried something like this before."

"Horton's dead."

"Yeah, but all of his former minions aren't. Careful, Duncan. I know this is weird, but you know as well as I do that something fishy is going on here." He paused. "You do know that, don't you?" he asked when the other man showed no immediate signs of gaining back his equilibrium.

"Of course I do." Duncan appeared to visibly shake off his consternation. "But, whatever is going on, I have to play it out."

Methos nodded his agreement and got out of bed to go shower. Tessa or no, whoever was on the phone had definitely killed the mood.

~~~~~~

Methos entered the dojo, relieved when he felt his lover's presence as he ascended to the loft. He pulled up the lift gate and sauntered in, stopping when he reached his lover who was sitting on the large leather couch, looking as if he were in a trance. "Mac?" He touched Duncan's shoulder to get his attention when his voice elicited no reply.

"Hm?" Duncan shifted towards the sound of his voice with an unfocused gaze.

"Mac, snap out of it. I could have been someone after your bloody head," Methos growled at him in irritation.

Duncan looked up at him quizzically, and shook his head, as if trying to manually refocus his attention. "No, I knew it was you. This was on the couch when I came home today." He held out a blue scarf as he spoke.

Methos took the scarf and brought it up to his nose. "Perfume. Something you need to tell me, Duncan?"

Methos almost laughed at the look of annoyance his remark rewarded him. "No, nothing like that. It was Tessa's, Methos. That's her perfume."

"Anyone could buy that perfume, Mac."

"No, you don't understand. That's her scarf. I bought it for her. I'd know it anywhere."

"So, what happened to it after she died?" he asked slowly, studying the other man with caution.

"I gave all her things to her parents, except the few personal things I wanted to keep."

"Maybe they sold some things or gave them away, and the wrong people got ahold of them. You know how bloody resourceful the Watchers can be."

"Her parents would never have parted with her things. They worshipped Tessa."

"Mac," Methos said gently, and sat down by his lover on the couch. He placed a hand over Duncan's and squeezed. "I don't know what's going on, except that someone is obviously trying to play a very cruel joke on you."

"Or trying to unsettle me in order to take my head."

Methos nodded, grateful that Duncan was now starting to think past the emotional manipulations of the past few days. They had received several more phone calls from the fake Tessa, unnerving both of them. Duncan had finally called to have a trace put on the phones, but then the calls had stopped as suddenly as they had started.

"Well whoever it is will have to show his or her hand eventually. Just remember, I'm here, Duncan. You don't have to face this alone and I'll be watching your back."

"I know. And I'll be watching yours. Just because she's calling _me_ , doesn't mean it's any safer for you, you know."

"I know. I'm just glad you're finally seeing this for what it is."

"I'm not stupid, Methos," Duncan said with clear exasperation in his voice. "It's just unnerving."

"I'm here," Methos repeated again, leaning forward to place a kiss on Duncan's mouth.

"I know. I love you." Duncan reached out and pulled him into his arms.

~~~~~~

Methos stepped into Joe's Blues Bar, and nodded appreciatively when a cold beer was pressed into his hand. "Thanks, Joe. I needed that badly."

"Problems?"

"You could say that. Joe, how closely have you been watching Duncan?"

"You know the drill, Adam. Mac tells me what's going on and I keep off his back. Why do you ask?"

"Has Mac told you 'what's going on' recently?"

Joe paused and glanced around the bar cautiously. "No, but maybe you'd better. Let's go to my office. It's getting a little crowded in here."

He picked up his beer and followed Joe's uneven gait into the office. He settled on the small office sofa and took a deep draught of his beer. "Someone is trying to get to Mac."

"Who? I haven't heard about any strange immortals being in town, but I could check."

"Yeah do that. But, frankly, I'd be more interested in what the Watchers are up to."

A frank look of disapproval crossed Joe's face before he answered. "You think the Watchers are up to something again?"

"Possibly. Joe, someone is imitating Tessa."

"What do you mean imitating? Tessa's dead."

"That didn't stop Horton and that sociopath he used before to get to MacLeod."

"All right. Point taken. What am I looking for?"

"We started receiving phone calls about a week ago. Mac swears the woman on the phone sounds exactly like Tessa. Then things started showing up at the loft _and_ in Mac's car."

"Showing up? Like when you're gone? How do they get in?"

"Good bloody question, Joe. We've tried tricking whoever it is, setting up surveillance, but she, or they, always seem to be ahead of us. But, it gets better. Mac swears the things left behind once belonged to Tessa."

"How can he be sure?" Joe was leaning forward now from behind his desk, appearing both puzzled and angry as he spoke.

"They're leaving personal things--jewelry, items of clothing--all items he gave her. To make it worse, they're spraying the items with her perfume, and it's driving Mac crazy."

"I don't know, buddy. What do you think they're after?"

"I would assume his head, Joe," he answered in irritation.

"Why all the shenanigans then? Why not just call him out and take it?"

"To unsettle him, catch him off guard."

"Is it working?"

"Normally I would say 'no', but when it comes to Tessa, he isn't really rational. I don't know, Joe. He's pretty shaken." He took another swallow of beer, then froze and looked toward the office door, as immortal presence shivered up his spine.

"An immortal?"

"Yeah, stay here." Methos set down his beer and rose, drawing his sword out of its hidden sheath in his coat while easing towards the door. He opened it a crack and peered out, letting out a relieved sigh as his lover walked towards him.

"Mac. We were just talking about you."

"I bet. Joe, any ideas?"

"Wished I did, Mac. Methos was just filling me in. How you doing, buddy?"

"Not so good. Methos doesn't know the half of it."

"What do you mean?" Methos asked in confusion.

"I saw her, Methos. Last night and again this morning."

"Tessa? You saw Tessa ?"

"Mac, I'm with Adam on this. Don't forget about Lisa," Joe reminded him.

"I'm not forgetting anything. It _looked_ like her, Joe. I saw her last night when I was driving home. She was walking down the sidewalk, but by the time I was able to turn around to follow her, she was gone. Then again this morning, I saw her from the dojo office window. I know it can't be Tessa, but I swear it could have been her twin."

"Or been _made_ to look like her twin," Methos stated baldly.

"There's more," Mac informed them.

"I can't wait," Methos replied sarcastically while plopping down on the sofa and spreading into a comfortable sprawl.

Mac shot him a look of annoyance and continued. "She called my cell phone this morning. She said she was Tessa and she knew about us." He looked at Methos pointedly.

"And?" Joe prompted.

"And, she's not happy. She said she couldn't believe that I would defile our relationship by taking up with a man."

"I see," Methos muttered. "So not only is she a fraud, she's a homophobic fraud."

"So it appears. Joe, have you heard any rumors of something going on in the Watchers?"

"Not a clue, Mac. Not that they would tell me if there was. If it is one of them, I would be the last person they would trust. Have you thought that it might be an immortal?"

"Of course I have. But, if it is, why play with me like that? Why not just show himself and challenge me?"

"Not everyone is as honorable as you are, Mac. I keep telling you that and eventually it's going to cost you your head," Methos admonished.

"I think I've got it, Methos. But what difference is this going to make in a challenge?"

"Come on, Mac. Are you going to tell me this doesn't have you just a little on edge? A little off balance?"

"Yeah, I guess it does," he relented, sitting back tiredly and threading his fingers through his hair.

"I'll see if I can pick anything up, guys. Just hang tight, Mac. I know it's hard, but try to keep an open mind about this," Joe implored.

"I will. Thanks."

"Yeah, thanks, Joe." They got up to leave, leading as Joe followed them back into the bar.

"Hey, MacLeod. This just came for you," Mike, Joe's bartender, yelled from across the room.

The three men looked at one another pointedly as a box was thrust towards Duncan from across the counter. He opened it with trepidation, then paused, before slowly lifting out a red dress with shaking hands. "It's the dress the woman was wearing this morning."

"Mac?" Methos whispered in obvious concern.

"It's Tessa's."

~~~~~~

Methos rolled onto his back and sighed into the dark. It had been two weeks and it was getting worse. There had been more Tessa sightings, more phone calls, always on Duncan's cell now--where he couldn't trace the calls. The sightings were always when Adam wasn't around--as if she were watching them and knew when to appear. Worse yet, now the mystery caller was telling Duncan things--personal things, that she shouldn't know. And the accusations were getting worse, more angry and accusatory.

He could see the strain it was taking on his lover as Duncan fought to maintain his equilibrium: the startled response every time his cell phone rang, the frantic darting of his eyes when he was out doors, looking for her, never being able to pin her down. Tonight had been the worst. There had been another package, bearing a favorite piece of jewelry, followed by another phone call, this time telling Duncan that she was back to stay and needed him back in her life. But, only if he got rid of "that man". It didn't help that she had ended the call by telling Duncan how much she loved him and missed him in the same voice as his dead lover. Methos knew that no matter what Duncan's mind told him, his heart was battered by every phone call, every sighting, and every package.

He had gone to his lover immediately, holding him close while whispering soothing endearments into his ear. He had undressed him slowly, kissing every patch of skin as it became exposed. He had caressed and touched him just as he had hundreds of times before. Only this time there was no heated response from his partner. Oh, he had tried. The kisses had been there, the return caresses. But, no matter what Methos did, he could not arouse the limp cock lying between Duncan's legs.

Duncan had finally fled from their bed, angrily throwing on his clothes and storming out without a word. He knew he should follow him, tell him he understood, that it didn't matter. But, he knew for a man like Duncan, it did matter. It mattered a lot. So, he remained behind to give his lover time to think and regroup.

An hour later, he was still wide awake and restless, his own arousal already the victim of a quiet death from worry and frustration. Finally, he got up and dressed, sheathing his sword as he prepared to go find his partner.

He pulled up the gate when the lift reached the dojo, relieved when he felt the familiar buzz. So, Duncan hadn't left after all. He turned on a light, and walked towards the single form standing in the middle of the room, looking dejected and lost as he stood against the stair railing with his hand clutching a punching bag for support.

He came up behind him and pressed close, placing his hand on Duncan's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He heard a sad chuckle. "I think that's _my_ line."

"No." He tried to laugh back and failed miserably. "I'm sorry you're hurting. I'm sorry I can't fix this for you."

"Me too. Methos, about what just happened...I don't know what happened. I wanted to make love to you, you've got to know that."

"I have no doubt, Duncan. I understand."

"Do you? Then maybe you'd better explain it to me, because I sure don't."

"What are you feeling? After all the phone calls? After what she said. Do _you_ want me to leave?"

"God, no!" Duncan turned to face him. "How can you even think that?"

"Hey, it's just an idea. At least until we can sort this out."

"No, I need you. Now, maybe more than ever. Except--" He laughed uncomfortably. "Now I can't even make love to you. Do you want to leave?"

"Not want to, Duncan. But, whoever this 'person--" he spat out the word while waving his arm through the air, "--is, she's gone to a lot of trouble to get rid of me. Maybe we should oblige her and see what she really wants."

"You think we can flush her out?"

"Possibly."

"All right." Duncan sighed tiredly. "Maybe you're right."

Methos shook his head and turned to go back to the loft to pack, until a touch to his arm stopped him and he turned back. He raised his brows questioningly and waited while Duncan wrestled with his thoughts.

"I want you to understand, it's not you, Methos. Whatever happened tonight is not because of you. I _know_ this isn't Tessa. It can't be. But whoever it is had to be close to her. She has her voice down, the timber, the accent. It _sounds_ like her, and when she told me she loved me, dammit, it was _her_ voice, Methos." He grabbed Methos' shoulders and held on in a bruising grip. "She's telling me that she's disappointed in me; that I let her down. That she's ashamed, and while logically I know Tessa wouldn't say those things, deep inside...."

"I know, Mac. It's okay." Methos caressed Duncan's jaw to stop his flow of words. "It's okay," he repeated, and turned to go upstairs to pack.

~~~~~~~

Marie Noel dried herself off and looked into the bathroom mirror. She placed a hand to her face and traced her features lightly, smiling at the vision reflected back. A little makeup and the transformation was remarkable.

Everything was going according to plan. The other man had moved out, leaving the way free and clear for her. And Duncan seemed to be just off center enough for her to move into place easily. She had no doubt that with just a little more pushing he would be ready to accept her into his life without question. She had to laugh at how easily it had all come together, even if it wasn't how she had originally planned to insinuate herself into his life. It seemed all her former experience as a con artist and thief had paid off after all.

She picked out a pair of dark blue slacks and a top, one she had seen Tessa wear in a photograph of her and Duncan. "I love you, Duncan," she said in the deep sultry voice she had always shared with her sister. And then she laughed again. Loudly.

~~~~~~

"Joe, you ready?" Methos called out to his friend from the living room.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your shirt on." Joe answered from the bedroom while putting on his jacket. "Would you think I was crazy if I asked if you're armed?"

"You mean other than my sword? Always. You?"

"Yeah, got it right here." Joe patted his jacket pocket and smiled. "We still don't know what we're dealing with here, buddy, so be careful."

"Aren't I always? You're getting me confused with MacLeod again." He snickered.

"Yeah, yeah. Come on, smart ass."

~~~~~~

"See anything yet?" Methos spoke into his cell phone.

"Nah, you?"

"Nothing. Mac's still upstairs though. We'll give it a little more time." Methos clicked off his phone and blew on his hands to relieve the chill. "Come on," he whispered into the air as if his command could hasten the process. 

A few minutes later he came to attention as a blue sedan pulled into the alley across from the dojo and stopped. He watched as a young woman exited the vehicle and pulled out her cell phone. Stepping back from her view, he clicked on his own cell and called Joe.

"It's her. She's right outside the dojo. Looks like she's calling Mac now."

"Does she look like Tessa?"

"Exactly, right down to the hair and makeup."

"Shit."

"You could say that. Later. Give me backup, Joe."

"You got it. I'm right behind you."

Methos eased out and followed her, keeping a safe distance in case she looked back. She had concluded her call and was now walking back and forth in front of the dojo. Probably so Mac could look out and see her, he reasoned. He eased towards her, then stopped suddenly as she froze and looked up. He followed her gaze to the upstairs window, not surprised when Duncan's face appeared to be looking back. Methos watched her, saw her smile, and knew he had her.

Stepping quickly, he fell in behind her and grabbed her arm before she could escape.

She turned in a huff, and tried to pull away. "Who are you? Let me go. I will scream," she threatened.

"Go ahead," he told her, smiling when Joe appeared and took her other arm in a paralyzing hold.

"What is the meaning of this?"

Methos had to hand it to her, she sounded appropriately outraged. If he didn't know better, he would believe her. "I think you wanted to talk to Duncan MacLeod. Here, let me take you to him," he offered smoothly.

"Who are you?" She looked at Joe, then back at Methos.

"Tessa, I'm disappointed," he told her. "I'm the 'guy' you wanted Duncan to dump. Remember me? And this," he said while pointing to Joe. "This is our friend, Joe Dawson. Does the name mean anything to you?"

"No, of course not. Why should it?" she asked smoothly.

"That depends on who you're working for."

"Working for? I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not working for anyone. Now let me go."

"No, I don't think so. Joe, what do you say about going up to see Mac?"

"Sounds like the perfect plan, Adam. Let's go." Joe tugged her towards the front door. They entered the loft together, both men still holding onto the young woman's arms firmly.

Duncan advanced on them, visibly paling when he saw who they had with them.

"Duncan, are you all right?" Methos released the woman's arm and strode to his lover's side.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He squeezed Methos' hand and walked towards the young woman. He studied her face carefully, finally letting out a sigh of relief. "You look so much like her. Did you have plastic surgery? Who's making you do this?" he asked in disgust.

"Making me? No one's making me," she stated defiantly.

"You sound like her. Those are her clothes. How did you get them?" he asked, while visibly clenching his fists and gritting his teeth, obviously trying to keep a tight control on his anger. Methos suspected Duncan was angry with himself and he was angry with her. For no matter what Duncan's head told him, for just that instance when she first came into the loft, he had hoped.

"She gave them to me. Look at me, Duncan. Why her? Why not me? I can be Tessa. Why can't you love me too?" She stepped away from Joe's loosened grasp and slid up next to him.

"Who are you?" Duncan whispered the words desperately.

Methos stepped in and grabbed her arm, twisting to inflict the threat of pain. "Answer him."

She gave him a pointed glare before turning back to Duncan. "I'm Marie, Duncan. I share her blood. Give me a chance. I can be her for you. You can have her back."

"Marie?" he whispered the name in disbelief.

"Marie Noel. Tessa's sister," she answered with a haughty tilt of her chin.

"Sweet Jesus," Joe muttered from the sidelines, while scratching his beard in disbelief.

"You can never be Tessa. Why did you do this to me?" Mac asked, clearly fighting back the tears threatening to spill down his face.

Sensing all three men's shock, she used the opportunity to pull away from Methos' grip and wrap her arms around Duncan's neck. "Do what? Duncan, I'm giving us both what we wanted. I'm giving you Tessa. Don't you see?"

Duncan reached for her arms and pushed her gently away. "No, you can never be Tessa. I'm sorry."

She stepped back two paces and looked at him dumbly. The emotions played across her face swiftly, first pain and disbelief, followed by anger. "It's always been her. Her! I'm just as good as she is. Better! Why shouldn't I have everything too? Why can't I have it all? Why not me?!"

Methos shook his head in disgust, noting the rising hysteria in her voice as she ranted. He started to grab her once again, and pull her safely away from Duncan, when she collapsed onto the floor and began sobbing.

"Don't, Adam. It's okay," Duncan told him, and knelt down to take her into his arms. "It's all right, Marie. We're going to send you home to get you help. No one's going to hurt you." He continued to pet and soothe her while Joe dialed a number on his phone.

~~~~~~

Methos kissed his lover's chest from one nipple to the next, stopping to suck and tweak the nub into a hard peak. He felt a throb in his cock and moaned against the hardened nub, laughing when the chest under him rumbled with a moan of its own. Letting go of the little nipple, he kissed his way down until he was staring at the swollen head of his lover's cock.

"Mmm, what do we have here?" he murmured, sending a hot breath across the throbbing head.

"Methos," growled a voice from above his head, and Methos laughed before taking the entire length into his mouth and throat. "God, yes," came the relieved exclamation from underneath him.

He continued to lick and suck, until he was forcibly pulled around to lay on his side with his feet facing the headboard. Smiling, he eased himself into his lover's wet mouth, and went back to his own task. He pulled the throbbing organ deep and sucked hard, even as his own aching penis was sucked and licked enthusiastically. He felt the pressure building as he thrust, and relaxed his throat so his lover could thrust harder inside his mouth.

He knew they were both close as he sped up his ministrations and eased a finger into the tight bud of Duncan's ass, moaning against the tender flesh in his mouth when he ,too, was penetrated. His finger stroked the small gland inside his lover just as his own sweet spot was caressed, and he cried out in his own orgasm as he tasted the salty sweet come of his lover fill his mouth.

He shifted back up in bed to lie beside his partner, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, and wrapped his arms around the torso of the other man. "That was...." He laughed.

"Yeah, it was," came back the breathless reply.

~~~~~~

"Duncan, about Marie?" Methos began as their skins cooled and dried, and their breaths returned to normal.

"What? Why did I let her go?"

"Well, the question did cross my mind."

"She's sick, Methos. While Tessa and I were together she had been in a mental hospital being treated for schizophrenia. Later she wound up in jail for theft and arson. And...."

"And?" Methos turned to look at his lover's face.

"And, she had gotten better for a time, but when Tessa died, something broke inside of her again. I understand her pain, Methos. I've lived it too many times. I have to help her. I owe Tessa that much. Please understand."

"I do, love. Trust me, I do. But, if she ever hurts you again...."

"I know, old man. Acknowledged and accepted. But she won't. I expect she'll always need care. Her father will see to that. And, when he can't, I will. For Tessa."

Methos settled against his lover's chest and stilled, letting the silence envelope them. He closed his eyes, comforted with the feel of his lover's warm skin and rhythmic beating of his heart.

"You know I love you." Duncan's voice broke the calm air gently.

"I know."

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't."

Duncan snorted. "Liar."

Methos kissed Duncan's chest in reply and waited.

Duncan stroked his hair, and soon the words came, softly spoken, slowly. "She's part of Tessa, Methos. No matter what she did. I couldn't save Tessa. But I believe her soul lives on-- with me, and with all the people she loved. When I saw Marie, in my head I knew it wasn't Tessa. But, seeing her things again, seeing Marie looking so much like her, brought back everything she ever meant to me. And for just that small moment in time, I felt her soul touch mine again."

Methos placed a kiss on his lover's mouth and smiled. "Deja vu?"

"Yeah. Deja vu."

~~~~~~

>   
> _Because I could not stop for Death,  
>  He kindly stopped for me;  
>  The carriage held but just ourselves  
>  And Immortality._   
> 

>   
> _We slowly drove; he knew no haste,  
>  And I had put away  
>  My labor and my leisure too,  
>  For his civility._   
> 

>   
> _We passed the school, where children strove,  
>  At recess, in the ring,  
>  We passed the fields of gazing grain,  
>  We passed the setting sun,_   
> 

>   
> _Or rather, he passed us;  
>  The dews drew quivering and chill;  
>  For only gossamer, my gown;  
>  My tippit, only tulle._   
> 

>   
> _We paused before a house that seemed  
>  A swelling of the ground;  
>  The roof was scarcely visible.  
>  The cornice, in the ground._   
> 

>   
> _Since then, 'tis centuries, and yet  
>  Feels shorter than the day  
>  I first surmised the horses' heads  
>  Were toward eternity._   
> 

>   
> _-Emily Dickinson_   
> 

Finis  



End file.
